playground
from the wing-beats of a butterfly,
a hurricane. from the impulse of
a child, a holocaust. turn these around.
from where does peace arise?
from the wing-beats of a butterfly,
a hurricane. from the impulse of
a child, a holocaust. turn these around.
from where does peace arise?
a poem before bedtime to dream in the rhythms of speech
a dream before morning to wake up curious
the curious waking dream that guides the footsteps
the iterative, tip-of-the-tongue dream
local architects! please! consider the voice,
and how it longs to blend with other
voices, not projecting from a stage,
but chest to chest. now build!
what are the songs of our people? (i know: happy birthday,
the alphabet song, we can get behind those)
the songs that remind us that we and our neighbors are one–
children! help us remember!
let’s be clear: real things have happened.
do we need a parable, or can we
state the facts, and draw the implications?
success is in the telling.